There was something about this particular retreat that made it special to me: it was an unexplored crossroads. Ever since last year's seniors graduated and left the group, I've felt an inexplicable void gradually building on itself. This feeling is by no means new to me, as I felt the same way back in high school while I was on the track & field team. It's quite simple, really: it's the feeling of being abruptly abandoned, propelled into the realm of responsibility, taking care of instead of being taken care of. In essence: responsibility, no fun, just pure responsibility. Before the 9th generation came in this year, I was hoping that maybe they could somehow fill the void, "maybe they'll be extremely fun and enthusiastic people that'll restore the lost spunk that defined Asayake as I once knew it!" Wishful thinking, really; half of Gen 9 didn't even show up for retreat.
So here I was, the night before retreat, reluctant to leave my academics and dragon boat practices behind. I was contemplating the amount of free time that would be available to me if I had just dropped my position as a performing member for taiko, "I could sort of redeem my weekends for personal time, not have to worry about constantly learning and perfecting songs, stress less, get better grades, work out more..." But the sense of abandonment that I hate kept tugging at my conscious. I didn't know what to do, so I decided to let the experience at retreat decide for me.
Logistics: I drove me... and three other girls. I hate riding with girls, especially when there are those whom I don't particularly like. Balls. "Well, this'll be great, driving two and a half hours to an unknown destination with no "your mom"s, no "that's what she said"s, and absolutely no flatulence. Balls, down my throat.
However, they did make me a happy man by agreeing to go to Phil's before beginning the trip. I guess that started me on a good mood as I had been craving for some good BBQ for way longer than I could remember. So, on a full stomach and two-albums-worth of Lady Gaga tunes, we found our way (albeit with a bit of getting lost) to the house and began preparations for the reception of the rest of our group (who were to leave three hours later than we did). We immediately explored the house and its three stories of carpeted goodness. Y had baked a cake earlier in the day for E's birthday and they began the frosting process as I looked through the kitchen's pantry and cabinets. The house actually had a ton of legit cooking equipment, including a real gas range. The gas range alone elevated my mood from I-don't-really-want-to-be-here to I-WANT-TO-FRY-AN-EGG-...-RIGHT-THIS-MOMENT. Of course, I didn't, and wouldn't have done so even if we had our eggs (they were in the trunk of the car responsible for transporting our food/supples). The girls finished the frosting, took some pictures, and began worrying about the rest of the group. We started playing mahjong to ease our worries, but to our surprise, the group actually made it not soon after we started the game. They flooded the doors, car by car, and I went out to help the food car as it arrived. Most people were just hanging out in the house, so only a couple of people helped transport everything from the cars to the house. I wasn't pleased with that, but told myself, "who could blame them?" I proceeded to smother the negative feelings by carrying the heavier items, effectively making it a mini-workout. That made me a bit happier.
After the moving, we shortly gathered around, popped the cake surprise on E, sang a round of birthday songs, and went on to playing a few games. I began feeling sleepy around twelve so I retired early from the group. I got to study a bit of ochem and Chinese, washed up, and went to bed. I recall V questioning my habit of sleeping without sleeping bag/pillow/blanket, and my response of, "I enjoy sleeping on the floor, especially the carpet." To be honest, I'd much rather sleep in a comfy bed, but whenever I'm in an unfamiliar place, I hate to make myself comfortable. Maybe I'll address this in a later post.
I wake up around 5 AM to frozen feet, try to warm them up to no avail, and then decide to read some more ochem before starting to prepare for breakfast at six thirty. I actually made progress reading about carbonyls and whatnot, and before I knew it, it was time to cook. Now, I woke up not feeling too great, telling myself, "what the hell am I doing here, no one's awake, no one cares." But once I started prepping the food, S woke up and offered to help. I didn't force it on her, but she began helping out. "Okay, this isn't so bad, at least one person cares," was what I thought. At this point, every time the thought of cooking for a big group comes across my mind, I think back to the extremely bad experience I had cooking for DB at Big Bear. I don't know what it was about that experience, but there's a slurry of negative emotions attached to it. So, S helping me out, without the fake, "I want to help, but really don't give a shit," definitely made my day. Soon after (maybe we were being too loud), more and more people joined us in the kitchen, selflessly sacrificing their morning by burning their hands while cooking the sausages and bacon, patiently shredding up potatoes for the hash, asking me what to do next. It was actually pretty pleasant, very opposite of the Big Bear incident as almost everyone offered to clean up. I wanted to wash the dishes, but they would have none of it.
At this point, I'm beginning to once again see why I liked this group so much in the first place: selflessness. In a taiko group... What the eff, right? Everyone cared about each other, the old members looked after the new, openly encouraging them to come out of the their shells. And they did. Especially at the after party, which we will get to later.
So, it was Saturday. The day went by so quickly, it passed by quicker than the metaphorical blur. After breakfast, we made our sandwiches for lunch (M, S, and K made mine as I was trimming the dinner meat, thanks again!), and everyone drew on their own bags and whatnot. I'm not sure who did mine, but seeing it definitely brought me back to the good times I had at last year's retreat. Here's a picture:
We packed up for our hike, left the house, drove, got lost, met Barry who helped us find our way to the trail, and began our search for Heart Rock. We hiked and hiked, treaded through unmarked paths, climbed, leaped, break'd, and reached a dead end. G made it known that he was starving near the end of the trail and sprinted up the hill at the dead-end, pronouncing it the lunch spot. The rest reluctantly followed suit and we all had our pre-packed lunch-bag lunch atop a rock on the side of the hill. It was a rather peaceful meal, until a bunch of them spontaneously burst out in Lady Gaga song. Hmm. We finished up lunch, left the dead end and began making our way back to the cars, almost certain that we would never see Heart Rock, the rock with a heart carved into it. Yet, along the way, we chanced upon a side trail that led to Heart Rock. Funny how the world works. The group stayed there for about a half hour and we left for the cars.
The group decided to go to The Village as per social chair's request. At that point, no one knew what this Village was. All we got was, "a must see at Lake Arrowhead." Hmm, convincing enough. So we took the time to drive there, only to learn that it was but a very very plain (stripped-down even) mall-outlet shindig. All I remember from this point on was unpleasant, nipple-hardening cold, slowly creeping up my legs and body. Yes, nipple-hardening cold. Granted it wasn't freezing cold, maybe I just didn't want to be there. Yeah, reason enough. You don't go on retreats so you can see retail shops and go shopping.
We left about an hour into it and returned to our warm cabin-house. At that point, the sun was setting and as I was beginning dinner prep, I happened to glance outside the porch window and was taken aback by the majestic view beyond the porch.
Amazing.
I quickly captured several shots and went back to work. G had recently come back from Semester at Sea and brought out his collection of Oreo cookies from around the world:
It was pretty interesting to see the variation in Oreos and also to learn that it wasn't just Nabisco that owned the name, as it operates under Kraft in certain parts of the world.
Cooking dinner took up a lot of time. Back at The Village, a lot of people mentioned they wanted soup, so I used the rest of our leftover tomatoes and made a tomato bisque. It was my first time making a bisque, much less that of the tomato variety, so I was a bit nervous. People seemed to like it, so I was happy with that. Anyway, just one reminder I'd like to give myself here: always plan for the preparations when cooking. Cooking is really all about prep work. It'll make your life so much easier.
After dinner and clean up, we had our traditional bonding time. Guys and girls split up as we took the room downstairs. We started off with gummy bears, drawing them from a bag and telling stories in the pre-assigned categories, but eventually ditched them altogether as we opened up and got more comfortable with speaking. It was fun, learning and sharing experiences; the lost feeling of being able to confide in my fellow taiko members was restored. After we ran out of things to say, E suggested scaring the girls upstairs by climbing up the patio and rattling the windows from the outside. He didn't climb, but A and M did. G and I stayed in the room, awaiting the cue of squeals, screams, and laughter to pass before we scurried on upstairs to rendezvous with our group. A bunch of the girls were rather startled and took some time to calm their nerves. It was a classic gender-clash moment, reminiscent of my early childhood days. After a couple of minutes, we began our group bonding session, sharing with one another our initiation experiences. That lasted until midnight and ended with a couple of games of mafia. I was feeling exhausted as I had less than my share of sleep, so I retired after one game.
I left the group feeling like part of the family again, the void filled with the now familiar warmth and laughter, much like how it was at my first retreat. However, this time around, the kicker was the sense of responsibility; I felt like a parent.
Sunday morning was a blur. Breakfast, clean up, pictures, departure. Something clicked for me at the pictures part. When we were all taking pictures, generation by generation, I realized that there was only one attending member who was an upperclassman. And when I looked around and counted, only a small fraction of the group were underclassmen. Everybody was in the same year as I was. The upperclassmen still haven't entirely left us yet, and I already felt like they had. My unhappiness in the group wasn't a result of older members leaving, it stemmed from my fixation, the fixation of realizing comfort only from the members who have graduated. So, all this time, it was a simple matter of replacing my dependence on the older members with the people that I grew and learned alongside with. Yet, I never thought this way because of the fact that they were, in my eyes, my equals, no better: I couldn't lower myself to respect them as my superior. Then I thought, "I can't always be the leader." I had been on a leader-high after leading workouts at dragonboat practices and never came down from that pedestal. I was so wrong, so stupid...
As the group arranged themselves in preparation for the group photo, I took my tripod out and began to fiddle with my camera. Under a guise of camera setting checks, I looked down, hiding my smile from the taiko brothers and sisters who I now saw under a different light, quietly acknowledging that both the day and the new year was now looking alright, pleasant... maybe even bright, and set the camera to go off in a couple of seconds:
We got home around 2pm, much earlier than slated, and I went to both Costco and Ranch 99 to buy groceries for the week. I ended up going to the after party and made a baked Alaska, as inspired by LJ's past creations. It didn't come out too good as the ice cream was layered too thin, but everyone's mood was at a high: spirits, dancing, singing, laughing, good times. Unfortunately, the HW assignment that was due before midnight was still there waiting to be finished. I had brought my laptop, but it crapped out on me and I was forced to go home from the party prematurely. Ah well, running back to my car in the rain wasn't so bad. It was refreshing; I liked it.
After all is said and done, I still can't believe I came away from this retreat with a new found hope for both growth in maturity and growth in my taiko group. As for the issue of time constraints, well, to that I say, "SUCK IT UP."
Things will work out, I promise.
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